He casts me a wry look. “Everyone knows about them, Elloren.” He cocks his head, viewing me searchingly. “Oh...that’s right. You’re from the Western Realm where they have those horrid, fanatical views about men like Trystan and Vothe.” He huffs out a derisive sound. “Vothe’s entire family despises Trystan, but for reasons completely unrelated to his gender. We find other reasons to hate people here in the enlightened Eastern Realm.” He sends me a look rife with cynicism.

“Vothe’s family has forbidden him from seeing Trystan,” I mention, outrage breaking through.

Or’myr coughs out a laugh. “Yes, that ultimatum is working out so spectacularly well. Because there’s nothing at all entrancing about forbidden romance.”

My lips quirk up at this. “I suppose Vothe’s family is destined to lose that battle.”

Or’myr’s grin widens. “They are completely destined to lose that battle.”

My eyes snag on a violin propped against the balcony and I gesture toward it. “So, do you play out here?”

He throws a quick look at the instrument. “I do. Tragic, heartbreaking songs of unrequited love.” He grins slightly at me again, but I notice the melancholy edge that’s crept in.

“I saw all your books of love poetry,” I tease.

Color spots his cheeks but he smiles. “Well, that’s the danger of having someone invade this hallowed, private space. You know my deepest secret now. Beneath this cold, unfeeling exterior lies the heart of a burning romantic. Whose kiss is like a bolt of lightning. And, like I said, not in a good way. In a ‘run from the bolt of lightning screaming’ sort of way.”

I can’t help but smile in return, grateful for his humor in the face of it all. And suddenly grateful for how the moonlight is making this wait bearable. “I’m glad to have found you, cousin,” I tell him, heartfelt, feeling like I’ve fallen right into a swift, unexpected friendship with this look-alike family member of mine. “I like you a great deal.”

“I like you a great deal as well, Cousin Ren,” he warmly returns as he pushes himself off from the railing. “And I need all the family and friends I can get, since I’m destined to be the Lonely Old Sorcerer in the Tower.”

I laugh, but our joint amusement rapidly fades as we both glance out over the water.

Toward Gardneria.

Where Vogel’s army is gathering as it gets ready to advance across the desert toward the Eastern Realm.

Even the Xishlon moon’s thrall can’t soften that.

“I should fetch more zoisite,” Or’myr says, more serious now. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Protest rises in me. “Wait... Or’myr...you can’t leave me here alone.”